


Restraint

by ndnickerson



Series: Red Label [4]
Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Handcuffs, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy's a little worried about Ned when she doesn't hear from him one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restraint

The laugh track was grating on her nerves when she looked at the clock. He should have called her. Hours ago. She was huddled on her couch under an afghan, her forehead creased with worry.

Maybe things hadn't gone well. Maybe he just didn't want to tell her.

Nancy glanced over at her silent cell phone, checking for invisible missed calls, finding none. The dial tone was steady on the land line. She had a sudden vision of him drinking alone in front of his television set.

Sighing, she found her slippers and car keys.

He could make the distance between their apartments in fifteen minutes, cutting through on side streets, when the lights were good. If she called him at three o'clock in the morning and asked for him, he could make it in twelve.

He had given her a key to his place soon after he had moved in, but she had never used it. He preferred her apartment to his, now, but he didn't stay all night, except on rare weekends when they gave in to each other and he couldn't resist the pull of attraction between them long enough to leave her arms. Sometimes, she was sure, it was the sight of her flipping through wedding planning magazines, teasing him with demands that he decide between freesia and baby's breath, satin or silk shantung, that drove him back to his apartment to watch four hours of sports, drink beer, and not move, just to reassert his masculinity.

She was afraid tonight that wasn't quite the case, but she couldn't take the waiting. Because he always called, he always found a way to call.

Even with the worry gnawing away in her gut, she felt slightly ridiculous as she keyed her way into his apartment building, not bothering to have him buzz her up. The scuffed brass elevator creaked up to his floor and she stepped out, looking down at the slippers on her feet. She hadn't even bothered to glance at her hair or change the faded t-shirt she had been ready to wear to bed. Shaking her head, she made her way to his door.

The key had been new-cut when he had pressed it into her palm, and she pinched it between index finger and thumb, letting the rest of her keys dangle beneath. She had never intruded on him this way. Despite the fact that he was her fiance and she kept nothing from him and shared every aspect of her life with him, she respected his privacy, and the very fact that this door was closed to her now... maybe he really did just need to be alone.

She shook her head, and raised her fist to make a tentative knock.

She almost had the key slipped into the lock when the door swung back, and she blinked into the dim interior of his apartment, up at the wide grin which was spreading across his face. "Hey," he said, the pleasure in his voice unmistakable. "Wasn't expecting you."

"You didn't call," she said, feeling faintly foolish, obeying when he gestured for her to follow him inside. He shouldered the door closed behind her and swept her up into his arms, and she closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Surely you weren't worried about me."

"I was," she admitted, breathing him in. Her heart was finally solid in her chest again, not fluttering somewhere above her ribs. "I do like to hear your voice occasionally, you know."

He kissed her cheek and released her. "I know," he apologized. "I forgot to charge my phone last night and it went dead."

"And you don't have phones at work."

He ducked his head. "It was a busy day," he objected. "Besides. I got the promotion."

She barely had time to register the wide grin on his face before she was launching herself back into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"I didn't want to call you in case you were already asleep," he laughed, spinning her. He puffed his chest out. "Detective."

She tilted her face and kissed him, long and sweet, through their laughter. "You win the bet," she said. "You're Detective Nickerson before I am."

"Yeah, but Detective Drew..." He released her again. "It's cute and it has a nice ring to it, rolls right off the tongue. Just like you."

She smacked his arm lightly, her face still glowing. "I'm so proud of you."

He ducked his head and she slipped her palm against his cheek. "I did call you," he said softly. "You must have already been on your way over. And I did think about going over there, but..."

"I can't believe you didn't explode," she said, clenching his shirt in her fists and drawing in close to her. "To know that, and not tell anyone yet."

He kissed her again. "Thanks for driving all the way over here in the middle of the night just so I could tell you in person," he murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted anything. Something to drink, maybe? A place to sit? Perhaps a little sex?"

Nancy fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Hmm. Never had sex with a Chicago police detective before," she said. "But I don't know about the 'little' part."

"There will be no little part," he growled, pulling her up to meet him as he kissed her again. "You should know that by now."

She was blushing faintly when he pulled back, and as he took her hand and led her to his bed, she said, "They let you bring your cuffs home?"

His shirt was half-unbuttoned when he turned back to her, the warm flesh in shadow, his fingers tightening against hers. "I can't see how they would actually do any good," he said lightly, the ghost of a smile on his face. "What was your best time getting out of handcuffs, fifteen seconds?"

The blush deepened softly in her cheeks and without thought or will he bent to kiss her again, their tongues meeting. She closed her eyes. "I have a feeling," she said softly, "that if you tried me tonight, my time would be significantly worse."

He paused for a second, then reached into the leather pouch on his belt and pulled out his cuffs. He let them dangle from his index finger as his gaze found hers. "You're fire," he said softly.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pressed a kiss against the hollow at the base of his throat, her lips lingering on his skin. "Thank you," she whispered.

He lifted her onto his dresser and kissed her as he gathered her shirt in his hands, above her breasts, and pulled back just long enough to tug it over her head before his lips were on hers again. His tongue stilled, his eyelashes brushing her cheek as she unbuttoned his pants and slipped them down his hips. He unfastened her bra and drew it down her arms, and she made a soft moan against his mouth as his fingertips stroked down the curve of her breasts.

When she was finally in his bed, he took the cuffs and drew the cool metal over her abdomen, smiling as she tensed. "There has to be something just a little bit wrong with you suggesting that I tie you up," he said. "Unless you only said it to get a rise out of me."

"Maybe," she said, raising her eyebrows at him, smiling.

He trailed his mouth down her neck. "Or maybe all those times we were tied up together, waiting for certain death, that turned you on."

"Maybe."

He linked his index finger and thumb around her wrist, brought it to his mouth and kissed the blue point of her pulse, moving just beneath the thin flesh. She let the fingertips of her other hand trail down the back of his neck.

"I thought you didn't like this," he whispered, taking her other hand in his, caging her wrist with his fingers. He pressed her hands to the mattress above her head and held them there. "I thought you didn't like to be out of control."

"There's a difference," she said softly, her voice nearly calm, although he could see the hard beat of her pulse in her neck. "Between this," she said, tugging her arms down slightly, against his grip, "and being tied up by some psychopath who just wants me dead. You, I trust."

He pressed his mouth to hers. "So you were never just a little wet at the thought of this."

She brushed her lips against his. "Only when I imagined you doing it."

His brown eyes searched hers as he slipped her hands through the slats of the headboard and snapped the left cuff around her wrist. "If you start feeling uncomfortable..."

She nodded, and he felt her shift underneath him, opening her legs to him, and his mouth went dry. "I'll tell you," she said, her voice low, her blue eyes steady on his. Her eyelashes fluttered down and she arched gently beneath him as he snapped the right cuff shut.

"This is seven different kinds of fucked up," he told her, sitting back with his legs doubled underneath him, gazing down at her. "I probably shouldn't say this, but I've thought about doing this before."

"With me?"

He laughed under his breath. "Yeah," he said. He ran the backs of his fingers over her breast, then squeezed her nipple between two fingers, watching her mouth fall open. He leaned down, and his breath was warm on her ear as he fondled her nipple, until it was tight against his touch. "Except usually I tie your legs open and fuck you until you're screaming my name."

She tilted her head back, as he found her other nipple. "Is that what would make you hard right now?"

"I'm already hard," he told her. "I have some rope in the other room."

She opened her eyes again, hazed with arousal, and managed to gasp, "You have thought about this a lot, haven't you."

He nodded, cupping her breasts under his palms. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded without hesitation. "Always."

"I'll be right back."

She laughed softly. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.

Only once she explicitly agreed, and opened her legs wide for him, her heels brushing the edges of the mattress, did he loop a rope around one ankle and tie it to the frame. He lifted her leg and she could almost slide her legs back together when he was finished, but she opened them to him again, her blue eyes steady on his.

"So, Ned," she murmured, "since this is your fantasy..."

He smiled. "Sometimes it is," he said, pressing his mouth to hers in another kiss. "Sometimes it's the back of a car, or on top of my desk in the bullpen, or just a good blowjob while I'm watching the game. You know, simple."

She chuckled against his lips. "Hmm. And your birthday is coming up..."

He trailed his mouth down the line of her chest, took her nipple into his mouth and flicked his tongue over the tip. She bent her knees, groaning as she reached the limit of his restraints, and he suckled against her other breast. "I feel like I'm going to explode," she breathed, her hips tilting back under his. "And you're enjoying it."

He traced his mouth down over her abs. "By now you'd be on top of me," he murmured into her skin. "Fucking me as hard as you could."

She arched her spine and groaned. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, there isn't," he agreed, nipping at the underside of her flat belly. He lay his palms against her open inner thighs, feeling the muscles tremble underneath her skin as he slipped his thumbs between her legs. "But I think I owe you some foreplay."

She moaned her frustration, then her pleasure, as he pressed her flesh open beneath him, dipped his tongue between her thighs and traced the tip over the button of her clit. Her hips surged underneath his mouth as he suckled against it, gently closing his teeth over it and sliding them up to the tip, and her thighs trembled as she gasped in a breath for a scream. He drew his thumbs up and down the inner flesh, stroking, and then pressed three fingers up inside her, curving his fingers up to stroke against the seam of her flesh in time with the press of his mouth against her clit. She arched, hard, and he heard the chain between the cuffs slide against the slat of his headboard, heard the frame creak in protest as her legs tilted back. "Ned, oh God, please," she gasped, and then she was beyond words as he thrust his fingers inside her, quickening as her breath grew harsh and desperate. She made a soft frustrated noise as she pulled at her restraints again, the quick tightening of her flesh as he scraped the stubble on his chin over her clit, and then he heard what he had been waiting for, the low guttural groan that marked the beginning of her orgasm, and he felt it tingle over every inch of his skin, his fingers trembling as they plunged against the wet yield of her flesh in harder and harder strokes. She clenched against him, her hips rising in perfect counterpoints to his thrusts, his teeth sliding over the tip of her clit, and she was screaming into the pillow, a low begging chant that became wordless pleasure.

He pulled back, his fingers motionless between her thighs. She was flushed, her chest heaving, her breasts trembling, her wrists faintly red where she had struggled. Her face creased with oversensitized pain as he slowly drew his fingers out of her. "God," she whispered. Then she laughed softly, the chain sliding against the headboard again. "You fantasize about eating me out?"

He shook his head, climbing over her until his lips were a hair's breadth from hers. "Foreplay," he whispered.

Her lips curved up in a smile, and she whispered, "I think it doesn't count as foreplay anymore when I come."

He wrapped his arms around her. "Your arms getting tired?"

She flexed her fingers. "A little," she said. "You have something else in mind? Not that I wasn't incredibly happy with what you just did..."

He smiled. "Still okay?"

She nodded. "Just don't leave me tied up all night."

"That wasn't part of the fantasy," he said, and kissed her earlobe. "Open your legs," he whispered directly against her ear, and she shivered as she obeyed.

"I'm not ready yet."

"What do you mean?" he whispered, cupping a palm over her breast and holding it motionless there, rising and falling with her breath.

She forced her eyes open. "I can feel... everything... right now," she breathed.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He nudged a kiss at the edge of her jaw.

She shook her head, her fingers white as they wrapped around the slats. "Imagine if I climbed on top of you right after we'd had sex and tried to go again."

He nodded. "You don't," he said.

"Right," she whispered, as his other palm covered her other breast. "It's the same for you, isn't it."

He smiled, and she felt his lips move against her skin. "Not quite," he whispered. "How does it feel for you, when we..."

The frame creaked, her thighs loose under his hips. "Like you fill me," she breathed. "Like I'm whole and we fit and it's perfect, and I can feel it when you leave part of you inside me..."

"How do you do this," he whispered, and his lips were trembling. "How come I'm the one who tied you up but I feel like you could make me do anything right now, Nan, can we," and his fingertips pressed against hers, and he was kneeling over her, his knees pressed to the sides of her hips, his face against the crown of her head. "I want you..."

She drew her legs up between his, until her knees brushed just against his balls, and he let out a shaking breath. "Now," she whispered.

When he slipped his legs between her bent knees and lowered his hips to hers, she gasped in a sharp breath. Her arms stretched taut over her head as she folded her legs up against his hips, and his first thrust was deep, smooth, hard. His abs against hers, his hips flush against hers. He felt her labored breath against the base of his neck, the brush of her eyelashes as they fluttered against his throat, and he skimmed his fingers down the backs of her arms, her sides, the curve of her hip as he moved over her. She moaned and he felt her tense.

"Yes," he breathed, bracing her hips under his hands to pull her to him as he thrust again, again. She made a low frustrated noise and the chain sounded between her wrists, the frame squealing again as she drew her bent knees up over her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh but she barely felt it. She cried out, arched, trembling, her neck bared as she threw her head back, her lips pressed against the point of his chin, and he bent, needling the flesh of her earlobe between his teeth. Again he pressed between her thighs, between her legs, deep into her center and she whimpered, gasping in surprise as he kissed her. The taste of her meeting on their tongues as his hips sank to meet hers again, pulling apart again, the hard undulation, and he whispered her name as she gasped, her breath edged in the sweet edge of desperate pain. "Baby."

"Ned," she cried, and she was impossibly wet, smooth, tight as she clenched his erection inside her. "Ned, oh God, oh God," and he thrust again, again, harder when he felt her struggle against the restraints, her heels sliding over his skin, her toes curling. "Ned... please, oh, oh, fuck, oh God, please, fuck me," his fingers digging into her flesh, his teeth bared, his cock deep and thick between her thighs. "Fuck me," she cried again, her hips moving with perfect rhythm against his, and with one last quick thrust he came, groaning with relief, full inside her. Perfect. The last gasping clench of her orgasm, the brief spasm of her flesh as they fit perfect and whole together.

"Nan," he whispered, when he collapsed against her. He held her for a long moment and she lay loose and spent beneath him, and then felt on the table beside his bed for the keys. When he loosed her wrists he chafed them gently between his fingers, his thumbs rolling against the bases of her palms, and they sat up together, reaching for her ankles. When she was free Ned took her ankle into his palm, kissed the hollow, studying the red inflamed flesh. He traced his thumb just over it.

"Hurt?"

She sat naked in front of him, her breasts rising and falling with her every breath, fingers rubbing her other ankle. She flushed softly when their eyes met. "It's okay," she breathed, reaching for his hand, and he laced his fingers between hers, holding them tight. She smiled faintly. "Good?"

"God, yes," he said, pulling her back down with him, into his arms, and she draped her arm over his side, bending it up over his back. She met his eyes steadily, and he brushed her hair back from her face, pressed his lips in a soft kiss against her cheekbone. He pulled back and she nestled against him, pressing herself up to touch the tip of her nose to his.

"I love you."

He pressed his palm against the small of her back, curved against her skin. "I love you," he breathed, tilting his face, kissing her again. Then he smiled. "Tell me we're okay."

"We're okay," she nodded.

He pressed his mouth against her ear and she shivered. "Tell me the truth," he whispered, as her fingernails traced over his back. "You'd cream yourself when you thought of me tying you up."

She traced her index nail down the indention of his spine. "Yeah," she breathed, her voice low. "That turn you on?"

"A little," he murmured, sliding his hand down her side until he reached her leg. He bent her knee and drew her leg up over his hip. She slipped her palm over his cheek, and he placed his hand over hers, the engagement ring pressing against his finger, and the heat between her thighs was intoxicating.

She rolled him onto his back, straddling him, and she brushed her hair back and gazed down into his eyes, her palms on either side of his shoulders. She was smiling.

"I think I'm addicted to you," he breathed, reaching up to push her hair back, to trace his fingertips over her cheek.

"Good," she whispered, laying back down against him, nestling her face against the hard muscle of his chest, her knee brushing against his hip. "Good."

He slipped his arms around her and brushed a kiss against the crown of her head.

"Next time it's my turn," she breathed, and he laughed.


End file.
